Temptation in France
by Baker-Street-Potter-Head
Summary: Remember A Game of Flirting? Remember the French trip? Well, what if they had gone whilst Sherlock and Molly were still playing their 'game? xx Three parts and, yes, M rated xx


_Hello, everyone. I have wanted to write this one for a while now ;) Anyway, without further ado, here's my new three part Game of Flirting story...I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading... xx_

* * *

It was dark outside in the streets and the only light in the bedroom of Sherlock Holmes was coming from the lamp on the bedside table. He was lying in the middle of his bed with his eyes closed and hands clasped under his chin, classic mind palace pose. He didn't move when he heard his bedroom door open as he was more than certain he knew who it was; he could see her, in his mind, her hair swishing around her and she was wearing that seductive smile and very nice red dress he fantasised so much about since the bathroom incident. She slowly closed the door and sauntered forwards, kicking off her heels and closing the door softly behind her. Sherlock closed his eyes tighter, determined to ignore her.

"I am trying to think." She simply laughed and, having reached him, slowly crept up the bed until she was hovering directly over him.

"Stop dreaming about me, then." Sherlock opened his eyes to find her looking down at him, biting her lip. He swallowed as her hands travelled along his chest, resting her fingers playfully on his shirt buttons.

"Molly-"

"Shhh…" her fingers pressed softly against his perfect lips and she dipped her head to kiss along his now bare chest. She hummed appreciatively and Sherlock failed to keep his shiver at bay; his hands had now unclasped and were resting on the bed, itching to run along her desirable body.

"I don't want you…I. Don't. Want. You. Molly. Hooper."

She was now straddling him, sucking at the base of his throat with her hands at his hips, her hair tickling his chest. Sherlock was swallowing urgently, his hands betraying him by beginning to slide up her delicious body. Soon, her front was pressed firmly against the mattress and Sherlock was above her, whispering huskily into her ear.

"Fuck, I want you."

She giggled as Sherlock's hands traced up her sides and he dipped his head to take the zip of her dress between his lips. She gripped the bed sheets forcefully as she could clearly feel her zip being worked down. She moaned softly as Sherlock travelled up her thighs, pulling her dress up and planting his hands firmly on her backside.

"You…have a filthy mind, Mr. Holmes…this dress gets sluttier each time I'm here…" Sherlock groaned against her skin, hating how his hands had a mind of their own.

"It's not my fault. You do this to me."

She twisted herself around beneath him and, after a moment of heavy breathing and staring, pulled him down fiercely by his hair to kiss him passionately. Sherlock responded by seizing her wrists from his hair and pinning them above her head. Soon enough, their clothes were tossed around the room haphazardly and she rolled them over, Molly's name falling from Sherlock's lips like a repeated frantic prayer. Her legs wrapped around him tightly and she arched her back, her lips parted in a plea for him to-

Sherlock snapped his eyes open, now wide awake breathing heavily and sweating immensely. He shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of Molly's delightfully writhing image. He extracted himself from his bed sheets and exited his bedroom, adjusting his dressing gown slightly. John watched and frowned when he noticed Sherlock's state.

"Morning, did you want any…" Sherlock hurried past the kitchen and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, "…breakfast?"

Sherlock didn't even bother shedding his pyjamas, stepping into the shower and slamming his fist to the cold water button. He didn't even gasp as the ice cold water touched his burning skin, feeling immense relief as the water poured over his highly aroused state. His back hit the wall and his legs gave way as he sunk to the floor, the memory of his dream still too fresh in his mind…

* * *

Sherlock was convinced nothing Molly did anymore would have any effect on him. He had seen it all and he was safe; nothing could work anymore. Then again, that had only been a dream, the reality was always much more tempting. He was sprawled across the sofa and enduring John's questioning looks until the sound of the doorbell sounding had the doctor jumping to his feet. Sherlock released a bored sigh as he heard Mary's shrill voice echoing downstairs and John inviting her into the flat.

"Oh, thank you, I can't stay long…hi, Sherlock," the detective gave an absent nod, not really listening to what she was saying as he slipped into his mind palace, "…I've got to finish packing-"

"Packing? Where are you going?" John folded his arms in confusion as Mary rolled her eyes; Sherlock tried desperately to block out their voices and focus on what Molly was doing to him in his mind.

"I told you, John. I'm going to France for the weekend with Molly," just like that, Mary had Sherlock's undivided, albeit slightly irritated, attention. John bit his lip, _now_ remembering his girlfriend previously telling him, "…it's an annual thing we do. Originally, it was so we could meet some men but I suppose that's down to Molly, now."

John nodded in agreement, thrusting his hands into his pockets awkwardly. Sherlock frowned; he had no right to tell Molly not to go, they weren't actually _involved_ after all. He clenched his fists; he wondered if she'd still sleep with other men even though they were playing their game. Nevertheless, he had to ensure she didn't…

"That sounds nice…in fact, John and I were just discussing how lovely the weather in France is this time of year," John frowned in confusion, as Sherlock gave a fake grin, "…it would make a pleasant change to leave London for a while."

Mary tilted her head; **did he just…invite himself along or what? **Shaking her head slightly, she turned to John and shrugged.

"Do…you want to come, then?"

"Yes."

John answered quicker than he had anticipated; it would be their first trip away together and John was eager to move forward in their relationship. Mary smiled widely and kissed the tip of his nose affectionately. She glanced behind her at Sherlock to accept him too, only to find the sofa empty. John sighed in defeat.

"He's probably gone to pack or something..." Mary nodded and felt her boyfriend pulling at her arm, "…we'd better do me to."

"Alright, but then we've got to pack…" John giggled softly as they moved into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Sherlock drummed his fingers impatiently against the frame of Molly's door. He heard her gentle footsteps  
across the wooden floor of her flat and subconsciously licked his lips. Molly opened the door irritably, a smirk creeping onto her face when she realised it was the detective behind it. He pushed past her with an annoyed huff and turned to face her, ignoring her obvious state of undress beneath her dressing gown.

"When were you going to tell me about France?" Molly raised her eyebrows, folding her arms as he released an annoyed sigh and moved down the hall to her bedroom. Molly smirked and followed him; he was searching through her suitcase when she entered.

"Um…it's none of your business what I do until you end the game," he let out a snort of laughter, narrowing his eyes at her choice of clothes, "anyway, why do you care?"

He ignored her and removed a particularly unsavoury item, holding it up and turning to face her, "…I don't think _this _is appropriate. Although, I am pleased about the lack of swimwear…"

Molly started to giggle and Sherlock frowned, watching as she stepped forwards. She took her lingerie from his hands and dropped it back in the case, locking eyes with his.

"As much as I'd love for you to root through my clothes, I think it worth mentioning that Mary texted me…" Sherlock held his breath, quirking his eyebrow as Molly licked her lips, "you and John are joining us, then?"

"Yes." Molly beamed and reached up to caress his shirt softly.

"Well, now you see why it was appropriate," Sherlock hated himself for releasing that deep groan, "and as for the swimwear, what do you think is under my dressing gown? I needed to try it on…I thought it might be too small…"

Sherlock would have seized her then and thrown her onto the bed, giving up immediately, if it hadn't have been for her seductive wink and walking into the living room. Sherlock followed her quickly and wrapped his fingers loosely around her wrist, spinning her around to face him. Darkened brown eyes met lust-filled blues as Molly bit her lip and Sherlock tilted his head, leaning forwards until he was inches from her lips.

"…is there a possibility we could 'pause' our little game? For the time being? We haven't even discussed any _rules_…what counts as losing?" Molly swallowed, feeling his warm breath on her face and willing him to move closer; she was frozen to the spot, "…gentle touches?" He softly caressed her arm and relished her breath catching, not expecting how husky his voice would become, "…innocent skin-to-skin contact?" He lightly nudged the tip of her nose with his, delighting in her shiver before whispering in an unmistakeable tone, "…a lingering yet exhilarating kiss?"

She swallowed, prepared for anything…except for Sherlock _actually _brushing along her lips tenderly without pressing them against hers. Her fingers were begging her to pull him by the hair to meet her lips properly and Sherlock himself seemed unsatisfied by the sweet action. A resounding knock to Molly's door made them both snap out of their starved stares and Molly released an impatient sigh. Ignoring Sherlock's smug snigger, she quickly moved to the door and found Mary waiting with her arms folded.

"Hi, Molly, are you pack-oh, _hello_ Sherlock. What are you doing here, I wonder?"

Sherlock gave her a fake smile before winking subtly at Molly and departing the flat without another word. Mary turned to her flustered friend with a knowing smile.

"Hmm, what was _that_ about…and don't tell me it was 'just talking'. No one gets that red-faced with just 'talking'." Molly fanned her flushed face and stepped aside for Mary to enter.

"No, it was _just talking_…what else would we be doing?" Mary rolled her eyes and grimaced, shaking her coat off.

"I suppose you're right, this _is _Sherlock Holmes we're talking about. Now, have you finished packing…we're leaving soon." Molly nodded and followed her friend into the bedroom, glancing back at the door; she could have sworn she saw a pair of blue eyes, a cheeky smirk and the swish of a coat before she disappeared inside…

* * *

Sherlock and John were soon waiting outside Molly's building with their things loaded in the cab. John helped Mary with her luggage, much to Sherlock's annoyance as he was left with Molly. She had purposely left the clasps to her small bag undone so when Sherlock lifted it, the entire contents spilled onto the pavement…of course, it was mostly underwear. Mary raised her eyebrows and John huffed, his face flushing as he bent to help Molly pack it away again; Sherlock appeared to have slipped into a trance.

He found it impossible to relax on the way to the harbour; he was pressed uncomfortably close to Molly. **I cannot believe I agreed to this. **Molly breathed deeply, her chest pressing into his as she did so and locking eyes with his. **Although, the fresh air might just bring her to her senses. **Sherlock glanced over her, trying to figure her out; it wasn't as easy as it used to be.

"Sherlock? Are you ok, you haven't said a word since we left?" John had turned around from the front passenger seat. Sherlock lifted his head from the hand resting on the window.

"Thinking." John rolled his eyes at the low mutter and turned back to converse with the cheerful driver. Molly smirked and cleared her throat softly.

"About what, I wonder." Sherlock hid his smirk and turned to face her slowly. **This is going to be a long weekend.**

* * *

Molly blew her hair out of her face as she tapped the edge of the bar. She couldn't take it anymore on the ferry deck with the loved up John and Mary…even Sherlock had buggered off somewhere. She gestured at the barman and he refilled her glass with a nervous look.

"It's quite early, my love," Molly shook her head and downed the searing liquid. The barman winced and gave a small clap.

"Well, I'm impressed. I'm usually serving tea and coffee around this time." Molly giggled and released a deep sigh, dropping her head into her arms. The barman nodded, leaning forwards.

"It's a man, isn't it?" Molly lifted her head and chuckled at the kindly barman.

"You don't know the half of it…" the barman rolled his eyes and folded his arms, slinging his tea-towel over his shoulder with a flourish.

"Believe me, sweetheart, I _know_. Forget him, that's the easiest thing…that's what I did with a little help," he waved a bottle of vodka playfully and Molly giggled again. She was startled by a clearing throat behind her and turned around with a deep groan.

"What are you doing? It's too early to drink…"

"Sod off, I'm on holiday." Sherlock frowned and took the glass from her, glaring at the barman who was engaged in conversation with another passenger.

"Whoever gave you responsibility to run the bar was clearly an idiot. It's too early and the bar shouldn't' even be open…" the barman gritted his teeth, pushing himself away from the counter.

"Look, honey, I've been-" he stopped dead when he turned around, fumbling with his tea-towel and Molly held her breath with a shake of her head. The barman gave a wide grin, licking his lips less than subtly, "ooh wow…um, you…you're right. Ah, sorry, pet…I don't know what I was thinking."

Sherlock shook his head and placed his hands in his pockets, failing to notice the barman blatantly staring at his chest hidden beneath the well-fitting purple shirt. Molly was biting her lip with the effort of trying not to laugh.

"That's no excuse. If someone had stumbled outside and fallen overboard it would have been your-"

"I know…from now on, alcohol will be served after lunchtime. Does that sound fair?"

The barman sounded eager, leaning as close as he could to the detective. Sherlock frowned before nodding once, placing a hand to an awkward Molly's shoulder. After a moment, the barman thrust his hand forward.

"I'm Freddie, by the way." Sherlock furrowed his brow, perplexed and staring at his outstretched hand.

"What possible use could knowing that piece of information serve?" Freddie's eyes twinkled deviously.

"None…my phone number, however-"

"I think we should go, Sherlock."

Molly got to her feet and was pulling him quickly away as Freddie titled his head in approval, releasing a short sharp breath. Sherlock smirked slightly as Molly led him through the ferry towards the bathrooms and shoved him inside the ladies. He had been about to say something rather saucy until Molly interrupted him with a stifled giggle.

"You do know that Freddie was flirting with you, right?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows and waited expectantly. When Molly still stared clueless at him, Sherlock sighed.

"You brought me in here just to tell me that?" Sherlock grazed his teeth along his bottom lip as he loomed over her, "here I was thinking you were going to give up…"

All thoughts of before were wiped from her mind as Sherlock gripped her waist loosely as if testing her. Molly raised her eyebrows but he simply smirked, pulling her closer so she was forced to place her hands on his chest. He deliberately stepped forwards until Molly's back collided with the sink, her loosely curled hair falling in front of her cherry patterned dress. She was surprised – not to mention _very _aroused – when Sherlock hooked his fingers under her thighs and lifted her onto the wide sink.

"Careful, Mr. Holmes…you're losing…" Sherlock frowned but only until he felt his first few buttons being worked open. He swallowed and met her black eyes.

"It doesn't look that way, Miss Hooper…"

Their foreheads rested together, her hands in his hair and at his neck, his hands moving her knees either side of his and grazing up her thighs; neither registered the door opening until it was too late. Sherlock had only just managed to slide into the cubicle as Mary stood with a raised eyebrow at Molly. She cleared her throat.

"I…felt seasick."

"That's why you felt the need to, uh, sit on the sink?" Molly simply nodded, fanning her flushed face. Mary sighed deeply and folded her arms, "well, we're here now so-"

Molly nodded again and hurried out of the bathroom without another word; Mary had a quick glance around before shrugging and following her friend. Sherlock stumbled out of the cubicle and ran the cold water from the tap, splashing it around his face and neck; he could still feel Molly's fingers burning his skin…

* * *

Their hotel was marvellous; a splendid white building with a large sign displaying the name Sherlock hadn't bothered to learn – he was more concerned to know if Freddie had followed him off of the ferry. The hotel was well-deserving of its four stars if the lobby was anything to go by; the high ceiling was decorated with a large chandelier and painted the room in a deep orangey glow. The floors were very polished and their shoes squeaked as they crossed the seemingly eerie room. John approached as the other three waited behind him; Mary furrowed her brow when she noticed Sherlock and Molly couldn't seem to stop staring at each other.

"Hmm…nice weather." Ignored. "Should stay like this all the time." Ignored, again. "Although, it could rain." **I don't know why I bother…this is getting very awkward. **"we can get the old bikinis out if its really nice."

They both turned slowly at this and raised their eyebrows; Mary gave a small shrug and a smile, releasing a sigh of relief when John promptly returned with a worried expression. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced towards the desk, clearing his throat.

"Um…apparently, the hotel weren't aware we were coming, too, Sherlock…they didn't have enough rooms _but,_" he hastily added before he could be bombarded with protests, "they were able to give us two double rooms."

Mary's eyes immediately flicked to Sherlock and Molly whose blood flow had apparently travelled to their faces and they were avoiding each other's gaze…well, _almost. _John shifted uncomfortably as he waited for the detective or pathologist to reply. When Sherlock did, however, his tone had dropped severely.

"Ah…I thought you called and informed them?" John frowned and opened his mouth to protest before Mary added, rather cunningly-

"It doesn't matter, us girls can share whilst you two…" she gestured between them but neither John nor Sherlock seemed too fond of this idea. It was Molly, though, to stamp on it entirely.

"No…it's alright, Mary. You and John should share, after all. Sherlock and I will…cope."

Sherlock found great difficulty in supressing his shiver and dared to peer at Molly. She was shaking ever so slightly, her knuckles turning white from the tight hold she had on her bag. John smiled gratefully as Mary nodded, somewhat knowingly.

* * *

They trudged upstairs to their rooms with a rather awkward air about them; John didn't know what Mary found so amusing but she was certainly trying not to laugh. Sherlock was walking directly behind Molly and it was very distracting…especially on the staircase. Too soon, they were standing outside their rooms with John and Mary smiling widely, hurriedly trying to get the key into the door.

"Well, goodnight…sleep tight."

Molly gave a fake smile and Sherlock scowled as Mary pulled John into their room without another word. They stood for several moments just staring at the floor, not daring to look at the other; it was the giggling from John and Mary's room that forced Sherlock to open the door that would most likely lead to a weekend of temptation ending with him being the one to give up. Molly stifled her groan when she flicked on the light and saw the large bed through to the bedroom. She automatically glanced at the sofa; it was really too small for either of them to sleep on, not to mention uncomfortable. **Fucking. Typical. **Sherlock released a deep breath as he approached Molly, titling his head at the comfortable object.

"I could try the sofa." Molly bit into her lip at his deep voice, stifling her groan as he moved towards the small seating area. He grimaced as he tried to settle down. "It's not very comfortable but-"

"No, sleep with me."

She didn't care how it sounded or how Sherlock was swallowing urgently, she meant it…in every sense of the word. Sherlock was on his feet, approaching her in two strides and stopping directly in front of her. Dark eyes stared hungrily and heavy breathing sounded; Sherlock held his breath as Molly's hands travelled towards his shirt buttons, twisting them open slowly. This was his cue to slowly bring his fingers to her zip, unnecessarily using both his hands to graze along her skin as he worked it down her body...

* * *

_Hmm, I'm quite pleased with that (especially where it was left hehehe ;) I hope you enjoyed this and, if you did, there will be two more chapters of this little thing o' mine :D Thank you so very much for reading and I hope you all have a lovely day/night :p xx Stay tuned, back soon xx_

**1/3**


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